Boards of Canada - Music Has the Right to Children

Warp

April 20th, 1998.

Boards of Canada's studio debut exists in an evasive space - Ambient, IDM, Electronic, what have you. It wisps of fond memories and some not so. It hangs around in the smoke rings of your mind - serving as a reminder of everything and nothing at once. Bittersweet, it captures the taste of days past - long gone and lost forever.

Nostalgia beamed through a lens of life that was never yours. You relate to the feeling, entirely, but you're not sure if you ever actually experienced the sensations that are coursing through your brain. A distant relationship that meanders on the vaguely vivid. In reach - close enough to touch - but evades everything on a tangible level. A space where emotion is prefaced with a layer of hazy cadence - a fog which dilutes dreams into ethereal reality. Are these your dreams? Or have they been paid off by an entity that refuses to show themselves. Out there in the vastness of space and time, these things wait for their chance to burrow into a persons memory; waiting to live out their lives through vicarious means.

Memories transposed on tape - grainy and strangely familiar. Life plays out in front of your eyes - once removed. All the emotion comes flooding back - you thought that you'd be safe looking through the eyes of perspective. Pulled back, the onslaught is just as unforgiving. These things that were once right there in the here now have been engulfed by time - like sand through a loose fist, spilled among the forever. Once, right before your eyes, now, translucent behind your mind. Projected on the back of your eyelids. Strapped to a seat in the cinema of your soul, relating to the story, in some ways wishing it was yours to tell.

The remainder, a lucid dream.